


into the blue fields and a room

by KelpietheThundergod



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Post-Episode s10e11 There's No Place Like Home, Season/Series 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-11 00:01:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3308096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KelpietheThundergod/pseuds/KelpietheThundergod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It lies on the table between them and it doesn't move.</p><p>The jagged teeth glisten in the gloom with insect's eyes, the river pattern on the handle crawls and swims like stormy seas. The blade lies on the farthest corner of the table, bathed in starlight, washed in blue and clear. </p><p>“How did you find me,” he asks, and Dean shakes his head, says “I didn't,” again, and his own words make him shiver. Like there's something he should know, should have done already.</p>
            </blockquote>





	into the blue fields and a room

**Author's Note:**

> written for my dear friend androbeaurepaire at tumblr. inspired by the song wasurenaide (don't forget) from the bubblegum crisis ost. poetry at the beginning is my own (as always, unless stated otherwise).

 

 

 

 

 

 

**into the blue fields and a room**

 

_into the blue fields and a room_

_where down the deepest path_

_it leads me_

_spinning glowing back_

_to you_

 

 

 

 

 

 

It lies on the table between them and it doesn't move.

 

The jagged teeth glisten in the gloom with insect's eyes, the river pattern on the handle crawls and swims like stormy seas. The blade lies on the farthest corner of the table, bathed in starlight, washed in blue and clear.

 

“How did you find me,” he asks, and Dean shakes his head, says “I didn't,” _again_ , and his own words make him shiver. Like there's something he should know, should have done already.

 

The table with the blade is old bare wood, but it looks ethereal in this light, blue like the light itself. But it's just this one steam, the rest of the place is in dark. Somehow, Dean knows this is a house. Has been a house, a home. He knows, it's empty, now.

 

There is just this.

 

“This is all?” he asks, and he sounds like he doesn't believe Dean. He makes a step towards Dean, a sound like a dog's feet dragging over dust. He is standing opposite of Dean, right on the other side of the table. Closer to the blade. Or is he?

 

Oh but Dean can see the outline of his body now, his face. Cain's eyes sparkle like black stones; the look in them doesn't let Dean go. Dean swallows, fights down the urge to step away, deeper into the shadows at his back.

 

“The road, Dean, you can never forget it. You'll forget your own name. There was no one there. _Is_ there someone there?”

 

Dean has to fight down tears, and it screams in him to shake his head, drop his gaze, to draw away. Cain's words are grave, urgent. They are silent. They are in his head. It's so still in this house. So _still_.

 

He watches the blade. For a moment, the teeth are bees, their translucent wings reflecting back the light, and then it's just bone and death again.

 

He thinks there are tears sliding down his cheeks, but he can barely feel them. He's choking, his throat burning with it, but he manages to gasp out a breath, to whisper, “ _There is_.”

 

Why is it so empty here? Why doesn't even the air move? There is no danger, no, it's peace. But it feels so sad. So sad.

 

It makes his heart shudder and send out stabs of pain, makes his lungs feel like collapsing and never drawing air again, the thought of being left here.

 

He wants to look away, to seek comfort from the dark, but the blade is _singing_.

 

It lies on the table between them, and it doesn't move, but its song is in the air, even when there is no sound at all. It's still louder than Dean's heart, when he listens. A sound, like a bell, a steam whistle. A whale song caught in ice and under oceans, never-ending.

 

He gasps, the tears still falling. His hands clench. They hurt. God, it hurts _so much_.

 

“This is not where you are headed, Dean. It's where I will be,” and his voice is softer, now, but insistent. “Dean, the road, you have to remember. Where are you now?”

 

Dean stares at him. He doesn't understand. He – there was, he was talking to Sam. Sam's warm hand on his shoulder. Charlie's hair tickling under his nose. His face hurts, there were bruises. But no, no that was days ago, there was – _now_ , he is – and for a moment, he thinks there's murmuring in the back of his head, like a tv on low, and his body is on something soft, and his head is lying on – and _Cas_ , Cas came to watch something with him, something about stars and comets – he'd looked at Dean, so sad, so far away, away –

 

“Can you you not hear them, Dean?”

 

Dean startles. He opens his eyes, lifts his gaze from the floor, to the window.

 

There are stars, falling from the sky.

 

Long white streaks across the deep blue night sky, hundreds of them.

 

“You have to go now, Dean.”

 

Dean wants to ask, what about you? What is gonna happen to this place?

 

And the blade is singing still, the light around it bright, but Dean thinks he remembers where the door is now, can feel in his legs the urge to run. He feels around the wall, frantic, scrambles at the door handle when he finds it and rips the door open.

 

> > >

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The night air is searing cold, alive. Dean's breath fogs in front of his face, his heart is hammering.

 

And there's still that guilt simmering in his blood, urging him to turn around and lock himself back in there. He forces his eyes upwards.

 

There's fields in front of him, the long grass moving back and forth with the wind like dark green waves. And the whole night sky, alive with falling stars. Everywhere they touch down, the light erupts and then fades out again, and again and again.

 

There is one, still falling, that Dean's eyes are drawn to, and he leaves the house at his back and runs across the fields.

 

He reaches out his arms, and it falls right into his hands.

 

He closes his eyes. It's so warm, so safe. Less like light.

 

More like someone else's hand in his.

 

He draws it closer, and then closer still, until it slips under his skin. And tugs him upwards, again.

 

> > >

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“You were very still. I thought you had fallen asleep, again.”

 

Dean smiles against Cas' shoulder, something spreading warm and wide in his chest. “I was.”

 

He watches the stars on the tv. Their lights are tiny, now. Far away, cold and peaceful and timeless. But that's ok, now.

 

He has found his way back to his own.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
